Dear Diary
by iwillroccyou
Summary: Beth keeps her journal updated as her life changes, and someone she didn't realize she had feelings for sends her heart racing every time. Eventual Daryl/Beth. Season 3 setting.
1. 1

**NOTE**: I tried to make it sound as journal-y as possible, but sometimes the stupid in me switches around the tenses. Her  
thoughts jump around, and I did that to make it as realistic as possible, to try to capture her thoughts as they came- so  
it's not bad writing, I promise! xD Also, I wasn't really going to make this a plotty story, just more of a specalitive  
look into Beth's day-to-day life, plus very little plot (and eventual Bethyl). So, please don't be mad at me if it doesn't  
follow a plot- be mad at Beth for not undating her journal right!  
P.S. I hope I don't make the characters too much OOC!

Prologue

One day it was normal. You never know what you are able to lose until one moment it is gone. Then you realize after that  
moment- then you see what is important and what is not. They tell you not to let your life pass by too fast, but you can't  
help it. Sometimes you have to step up to the plate and accept your fate, you let your childhood slip away from you  
because you don't need it anymore. Your childhood is a burden, your memeories will weight you down. You have to forgive  
and forget, live and move on.

That's what I had to do. That's what I fight for right now- that bit of carnal survival that will push me to believe that  
one day everything will be okay. Of course, I could be lying oto myself, even now as I stare off into a darkened room with  
a knife in my hand. I could be way over my head. I could be lying to myself when I say everything will be okay one day.  
I'm sure I'm lying to myself- Daddy always said that I was good at making up stories. Now I wish this was only a story.

1

In the morning light filters through the prison windows, they land on the sheet over my door and I watch and wait for  
shadows. The light puts the image of bars over the sheet, metal mesh that once kept in hardened criminals. Even though  
there are no bars that close off my room, I still feel caged in the tiny gray cell, that could have held any number of bad  
people, now the only protection I have against the outside world.

In the morning I can't move, there's a moment where I think maybe I could have died in my sleep, like Patrick, I could  
already be dead and I wouldn't even know it. Then I finally form thoughts and my body moves when I tell it to, and I feel  
an overwhelming relief. Yes, I am still alive. And no shadows darken my doorway, and the prison is still with sleep. I  
don't hear the growls of the dead, and I wonder how long the silence will last.

When I push open the sheet and let the filtered light illuminate my room I look at the cell and I feel a twinge of regret.  
Once upon a time my room looked bright and full of life from a girl who didn't fear anything but a bad grade or getting  
made fun of in front of a boy. Now the room before me stands as a gray, sparse area only made to survive, hardly meant for  
living. The pictures on the wall are made on the backs of prison papers and show the faces of the people I once knew. At  
night they watch over me when I sleep and sometimes I see them in my dreams. My mom would have laughed at the picture of  
our old horse standing with the rest of the family. I'd tell her I miss the horse too. She'd tell me I always had a big  
heart. Sketching them can be hard sometimes... but in my spare time I perfect them, pressing a piece of broken lead  
against the paper and hoping that I haven't forgotten too much of their faces.

My mother wouldn't even recognize the person I am now. Horror has chipped away whatever girl was left at the farm-  
Elizabeth Greene is turning eighteen in a week and can hardly even smile.

-

The morning bustles with people just waking up, lines to the shower form and I distantly remind myself to tell Zoe to  
refill the vats that hold the water. (Sometimes she'll forget and the complaints are kind of annoying). It's surprising  
how fast the water can go, but its easy to refill them. On one of the runs I remember Maggie and Glenn brought back gallons  
and gallons of water, they couple of days that followed it were pretty happy. Michonne went to the traps and brought back  
a deer, Damian made sausages and we celebrated for days. Wouldn't think celebrating for a couple of gallons of water would  
become something that I would do... but it was a happy occasion nonetheless.

I didn't take a shower this morning, instead I decided to wait for the afternoon, since not many people did it then, and I  
wasn't a big fan of getting buck-naked in front of anyone.

Judith was in a happy mood when I saw her, she had gotten plump in the past couple of months and sometimes when she smiled  
her chubby cheeks exposed dimples. She looks a lot like Lori, and I hope one day Judith will sit down with Rick or Carl  
and talk about Lori. I hope Lori doesn't get forgotten like Otis did, or Nelli, or Axel. If I was going to make a list of  
people who died and were forgotten... I wouldn't have enough room in any book available. The mention of Lori is still  
upsetting for Rick... although lately he's been in a better mood, must be the longer days and baby Judy. He doesn't have  
as much weighing on his mind, the prison makes it easier on everyone. I think that maybe he doesn't want to lead us  
anymore, now that we have the prison we're protected and he doesn't have to take on the responsibility anymore. We're not  
out in the woods anymore, where he had to make sure we were all safe by himself, assuming the position of Leader. Now  
we're a community. Now we're a driving force with people and connections to back us up. I think Rick likes the space we  
all have now. After Lori's death I was sure that he was going to lose his mind, but he came back after Baby Judy was in  
his arms. I think Judy is like the glue of us all now- she makes us remember what's at stake and she helps us to remember  
that sometimes people die but that doesn't mean it's the end.

My chores basically consist of the same things I did when I was home on the farm. I wash the clothes with a handful of  
other women, fold the clothes, hand out the clothes, sometimes I help with dinner, hand out dinner. Most times I watch  
over Judy when Carol doesn't have the time- I don't like leaving Judy with any of the women from Woodbury. It's not that I  
don't trust them, it's only that Judy is like family to me. She almost feels like a younger sister... and I am like a  
mother to her. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if Judy was hurt. I doubt anyone would, not even Daryl Dixon, who  
affectionately calls Judy "little Ass-kicker".

It's fun to watch them together. Sometimes, when he has nothing better to do (or so he tells me), he'll come visit Baby  
Judy. I'd never thought I'd see such a sigh as Daryl Dixon, a redneck biker with a crossbow and a scary demeanor, sitting  
on the floor with an eleven month old baby and play with her. There's a stark contrast between the two, it's like  
innocence and reality. Sometimes there'd be blood on his cheek, or his arm. I'd wipe it away before he'd see the baby.  
He'd say, "What, now you're cleaning me like I'm a baby?" and I'd smile and tease back, "If you did it yourself I wouldn't  
have to." I'd get a dangerous look for that, but he'd be smirking so I knew I wasn't in too much trouble.  
He really should clean up before seeing Judy though, but I can understand how he can miss some... being as the state of  
being covered in blood is almost natural now.

The washroom is strange to stand in. The machines are huge, and they rattle loudly when they're turned on; we have to yell  
at each other for anybody to hear anything being said. The loud machines scare me, and the thought that dangerous criminal  
once stood in the very room and put his own clothes into the same machine I put my clothes into makes me slightly nervous.  
The thought is almost laughable. I'm more uncomfortable about criminals than the Walkers. The world is a strange place.

Putting clothes into the big mouth of the machine is a comforting repetition, though. It reminds me of an older time, when I  
used to do laundry with my mom in the evenings and Saturday mornings. She'd never get up on a Sunday morning, except to go  
to Church. "Only God can wake me up on Sunday," she'd joke to me. And no matter how many times she'd say it, I always  
laughed.

Sometimes I miss Church, miss the sound of Mass, the prayers of the Pastor and the prayers of the people around me. The  
sense of community under the house of God. How everyone was family under that roof, how everyone was one of God's children.  
Now it seems people are segregated. Maybe the Walkers are agents of the Devil... although that is really crazy talk.

I should make a cross for Judy, if Rick'll approve... of course I'll have to make sure it's safe for her to chew on.

-

The shower room was quiet when I stepped into the stalls. I held some clothes against my chest as I walked in, looking  
around the showers tentatively. I wasn't so shy before. Carol, Andrea, Maggie, Lori, and I all used to bathe together  
(safety in numbers) and then I wasn't shy. But with all the new women in the prison, I got a little self-conscious all  
over again. I liked the system set up by the others in the showers, to make them pump water- the thought that even though  
the world isn't working, the brains in it still were. Once I was sure that no one was in the showers I put my small piles  
of clothes down and picked one of the stalls. I was sure no one was in the room so I sighed softly, letting myself relax.

Relaxing can be dangerous business. You should never truly relax, then something could catch you off guard. But within  
the prison walls I was sure I would be safe to at least relax for a millisecond. The brush of fabric was the only thing I  
heard in the large room as I removed my t-shirt and shorts, the sound seemed to echo among the shower stalls. I wondered  
what it was like for the prisoners.

They didn't have the luxury of being shy, they didn't have a choice but to be in this room filled with other people. I  
shook my head slightly, disappointed in myself for not having any strength when in came to indecency. It was almost silly  
to be so scared of other people seeing my body. Although there was another reason. I idly stroked the scar on my wrist  
before sighing once more, and reaching behind myself to unhook my bra.

The quick, brisk walk of a man's boots echoed through the stalls and I nearly jumped half way out of my skin. Without  
thinking I yelped in surprise, no words forming in my panic and embarrassment as I spun around and went to scramble to  
pick up my discarded clothes that left me only in my thin underwear and the bra that was a little too small for me,  
because I found it in a thrift shop we raided before arriving at the prison.

"Jesus!" Came a familiar voice and my cheeks started to burn. I was pretty sure I was bright red as Daryl Dixon whipped  
around and put a hand to his eyes like it would erase what he had already seen. My throat burned and for a second I  
thought I was going to cry. "M'sorry," Daryl said quickly, his voice wasn't the normal cool and drawling tone I usually  
heard. "Maggie's looking for you, somethin' 'bout medicine." With that he walked out even faster than he came in.

I burned alone in the showers and let out a shaky breath. I couldn't possible have left the shower with my dignity intact  
after Daryl saw me with my bra nearly off, standing in only the pink printed underwear Maggie let me have, slightly lacy  
around the edges and a bit too revealing of my hipbones for comfort. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die, but instead I  
crawled out of the shower in clean clothes and red cheeks.

My shower can wait, I can hardly write anymore. I'm going to talk to Maggie and sleep- I'll tell you more tomorrow.


	2. 2

When I see Daryl in the hallways, in the cell-block, in the cafeteria, he won't look at me. Every time I feel his eyes dart to me and then dart away I feel naked again and my cheeks flame up. Carol laughs every time my face turns red, and she said that if I kept it up my cheeks would stay that color.

Of course I told her what happened, I was so embarrassed yesterday I had to tell someone or I would have cried.

Maggie needed some medicine for Judith, and usually she knows where the medicine is but recently we had to rearrange the medicine cabinet when Glenn brough more medicine back from town. We seperated the drugs into adult and child, placing the kid's medicine in another drawer. Maggie didn't know.

When I passed Daryl my face was so red I could have lead Santa's sleigh. Daryl looked slightly flustered as well, rubbing the back of his neck as I came out of one of the hallways towards one of the cellblocks. He seemed to have been waiting for me. "Look, kid, I didn't mean-" he began but I quickly stopped him by raising my hand.

"It's okay," I said with my face still very red. My cheeks burned. "You don't have to- let's just- uh-" my words failed me and I felt my throat clench slightly. "D-Don't worry about it." I haven't stuttered since the third grade, "It was a mistake. I forgive you." He pressed his lips together but looked grateful that he didn't have to continue the apology.

"I jus' feel like I owe you an explaination- I didn' hear the shower runnin' so I figured you weren't in there- I just went in to go check." He coughed slightly, still not looking at me. "Jude needs some meds, somepin 'bout her stomach." I nodded and turned around, not looking back as I continued to walk to cell block C. My knees still felt weak and my stomach flipped up and down in my chest. I didn't know if it was embarrassment or something else. Now I was going to be even more self-conscious about the showers.

Getting the medicine for Maggie was easy enough, I told her about the change in the medicine cabinet and she nodded. I wasn't going to tell her about Daryl, the thought was too embarrassing. And I knew that Maggie would make Daryl Walker feed. But i knew that Carol would laugh, and after asking me if I was okay with, (which I had told her I accepted because there was barely any harm done, but was still very embarrassed about it) she had laughed hard. I made her promise not to tell anything to Daryl (knowing how much she likes to tease him). Carol told me that she was going to mention something to Rick about putting a sign up or something when someone was in the bathroom. I agreed that would be a good idea.

-

Sometimes when things are quiet in the prison, when my chores are done for the day and Judy is down for a nap or being watched by Carol or Carl, I like to go outside. After being cooped up in the prison for so long, I can't stand the smell of steel and stale air, I need the fresh air... even if sometimes the wind brings the smells of Walkers, or the smell of a distant fire, the pungent smell of decay and gasoline. But being outside reminds me of Zach, and I like that. We met outside, when one day I rested from a run on a bench near the north side of the prison. Zach was taking a walk. Many of the boys from Woodbury tried to talk to me, but it was all very awkward. My Daddy warned me of the Woodbury boys, and the advanced they might make- but knowing my protectors are Rick, my addy, and even Daryl, none of the boys dared get too close. I was a forbidden fruit, different from them, like I was a whole different species almost. Maybe I am, but Zack didn't think so. When he saw me on the bench, catching my breath from the run, he smiled and sat next to me. We started to talk and that was that, the rest is... history.

Talking to Zach was easy for me, there was nothing awkward between us. It felt right to talk to him. For a week we talked, and then one night when Sam set up the movie projector for Friday Movie Night (a white and black romantic movie that was appropriate for inmates to watch), Zach leaned over and kissed me. I knew I told Daryl that I don't cry anymore, but sometimes when I sit out in the fresh air and feel the wind caress my cheek and ruffle my hair... I think of Zach and remember that I'll never see him again, never steal kisses in the library, never have our inside jokes to laugh about, never sit on this bench and smile and remember how we fell in love.

I cry then. When I'm all alone with only the soft growling of the distant Walkers to keep me company, when I should have Zach, or my mom, or Otis, or Jimmy, or even my old horse Nellie, when I should have my brother- all those people close to me that I lost to the Walkers... When I'm alone I finally cry. I cry and let everything not be okay for a couple of minutes, and that's how I cope with everything. How I still manage to smile and sing a beautiful song for Judy, or laugh and joke with Carol... it's because sometimes I let myself become undone in the hot summer sunlight, let my tears dry on my cheeks and finally relax for a second. Leaning against the prison wall, in the shade of the huge gray building, there's a solitude that can't be found within the walls. No one is talking, there's no distant sound of working or laughing... in the courtyard all you hear is the wind hitting the walls and the sound of Walkers growling and rattling the distant fence.

It's only when there's a steady stream of tears down my face, and quiet sobs raking through my body that I noticed the reflective sparkle of glass move out of the corner of my eye. When I looked up the sparkled was gone, but someone stood in the Watch Tower and was looking down at me. He was silhoetted in the tower, but I didn't have to see his face to know who it was. My cheeks turned red once more, and maybe that would turn out to be their permanent color, because Daryl Dixon had seen me cry.

-

The rest of the day passed like a blur. I stopped to check on Judith and saw that she was still sleeping, and that Carl was watching over her for his shift. I felt slightly relieved at that, knowing that Judy wasn't going to need me for a least a couple of hours. At that suddenly thought I felt an overwhelming exhaustion fall on me. The day had been long, my eyes practically burned from lack of sleep, and also the stress of crying so hard. My eyelids dropped slightly when I came to my bunk, and I was again relieved that it was empty. My body was heavy when I laid down, circling into a small ball on top of the covers, letting myself relax on the blankets that I quilted together with Carol, Shannon, Tracy, and Maggie. We stitched our initials into the corners, a sweet reminder of that good day. I wish I had a camera, so I could take pictures of everyone, take pictures of the prison, take pictures of what we're doing and our lives here. So when all of this is over, I can look back over them. Me, and Daddy, and Maggie and Glenn, we'd all sit around at the told farm house and remember our time here. I don't think it's permanate. It might feel like we're going to live here forever, but in the long run I knew that our days here are numbered.

With that thought I fell asleep.

-

In my dream I was swimming. I felt the cool water on my bare legs, the warm sun's rays through the top of the water, and I felt my hair brush against my shoulders in that way a mermaid's hair would look under the water. I felt at peace, suspended like I was ina space between a bottomless ocean and the bright surface. I should have been content, floating without effort between the two worlds but I was suddenly restless. I no longer wanted the serenity of the calm sea, and when I looked up at the darkening sky though ht e rocking blue water I knew that i had to choose between the bottomless ocean, where the floor looked black and lonely, or the thundering of the once calm shoes that were only a couple of feet above my head. Above the water a structure came into view, a tall structure that seemed to be distorted under the swaying, moving water. Something sparkled at the top and I meediately thought of binoculars, and the stomach turning thought that someone was watching me at my weakest struck snuck into my mind. I wanted to scream but the water filled my throat as I opened my mouth, burning down my throat. I wanted to run but hands from the black depths reached for my ankles and pulled me down- claws and teeth dug into my legs and ankles and I tried to scream once more, but the water continued to pour down my throat like boiling oil. I reached for the sparkling light on the tower but i was ripped down into the black, never ending floor of the ocean, where my skin turned blue but warm blood washed around me. I tried to call for Daryl but Zach stood before me with red-blood eyes, and a torn throat. Our blood mixed in the water and he snapped at me with dead eyes. THen I saw the people behind him. My mom stood next to Otis, next to Andrea, next to my brother and my sister. Then I saw Zxel, and Lori, and Jimmy, eating my horse Nellie as she fought in the water to run but couldn't. TThe water was no longer black or blue, now it had turned crimson and glowed as the hands continuied to reach me for me, hungry.

-

When I woke up I was paralyzed with fear, a light sheen of sweat rested on my skin as I lay still in the darkness. My heart pounded, and it took many moments because I was able to take a deep breath and relax. But still my body shook. Very slowly I sat up and let my barefeet touch the cool floor of the prison cell. There was no sunlight shining on my sheet and I knew that it had to be some ungodly early or late hour. I sat still for another moment, the fear still present in my limbs and making me shake helplessly. I clenched my fists and rubbed my eyes to try and expel the fear that held me still to my cot. Slowly my heart returned to normal, and I let out a soft exhale. The nightmares are getting more and more frequent, but for the life of me I can't understand why they have to be so strange. And that part about Daryl- I can't understand that either.

Maybe tomorrow I'll scour through some dream journals and they'll tell me why they're so screwed up. Why I'm so screw up.


End file.
